


Crying In My Prom Dress

by mageicalwishes



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Leavers Ball (Simon Snow), Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageicalwishes/pseuds/mageicalwishes
Summary: The Leaver's Ball marks the end of the school year. The end of their time at Watford. Baz has a confession to make before it's too late. But, will he ever pluck up the courage to tell Simon how he feels?Inspired by the song "Prom Dress" by Mxmtoon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 38
Kudos: 176





	1. Can't Help Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Just to avoid confusion - This fic is set in an AU where none of the major events that take place within "Carry On" happened and takes place in their Eighth year at Watford, although Baz was still kidnapped by Numpties. No front seat for him.  
> For Clarity- This chapter is heavily inspired by the scene on page 216 of Fangirl. Some of the dialogue within this fic is directly quoted from this page, although I have altered most of it. Additionally, I directly quote both page 216 of Fangirl and page 177 of Carry On within this fic (these are both written in italics).  
> Hope you enjoy :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 

**Baz**

It’s bad enough that I have to share a room with Snow given the ... circumstances. The last four years at Watford have practically been hell. _Sharing a room with the person you want the most is like sharing a room with an open fire. He’s constantly drawing you in. And you’re constantly stepping too close. And you know it’s no good - that there is no good - that there’s absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then … Well. Then you burn._ As it happens, I am severely burned. Charred, even. I’ve tried to stop it. I’ve tried everything. Everything just to make all of _this_ go away. I tried fighting him (but every time he’d tackle me to the floor my brain still strayed to, shall we say, “devious” places). I still loved him, even though I spent my days desperately trying to convince him (and everyone else around us) that I didn’t. I tried “getting it out of my system” the summer after Fifth year (but that just provided me with a new array of distracting mental images my mind could wander to when he was lying barely a metre away from me). I still loved him. Last Summer, I desperately tried to find someone else. Anyone who could just take my mind off of Snow. But, that failed too (obviously). Nobody else could compare to Snow - How could they? They weren’t him. Of course I didn't want them - I wanted him. I still loved him. So, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here right now. I’m not sure why I insist on torturing myself further. Sharing a room with him has been painful enough, but that’s mandatory. That’s all the Crucible’s fault. Following him when I know he’s going to meet Wellbelove, that’s … soul-crushing. And, that’s all my fault. Even for me this pathetic. Pining after him like bloody Romeo to Rosaline. Father would be so disappointed. The heir to the Grimm-Pitch estate, trailing after the Mage’s protégé like a love-sick puppy. It would bring him to tears. But here I am. They’ve stowed themselves away in a cosy, little storage room. And I’m sat (alone), hidden away on a balcony, watching them through the window. Like I said, _pathetic_. 

They’re practising their steps for the upcoming Leaver’s Ball. Simon Snow can’t dance. He’s stomping all over her pretty silk boots. _She looks lovely today (as always) - all golden white hair and creamy pink skin. She’s opaque. Like milk. Like white glass._ He looks - Well, he looks perfect (as always, he’s inflammably handsome). He’s still wearing his uniform, minus the tie. He’s loosened the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing the moles that are scattered all across his collarbones. I’d kiss them - If I could. I’d kiss every single mole on his stupid body. But I can’t. He’d never let me. His trousers are hugging him just right. It’s nearing the end of the school year so (with all that gorging himself on scones and roast beef) he’s filling them out deliciously. His bronze curls are delightfully tousled (he runs his hands through them at least one hundred times a day). And he’s flashing a delightfully charming grin, small crinkles forming beside his eyes. His eyes are an ordinary blue. You could say they’re nothing special … but that would be a lie. They’re captivating. Simon Snow is an artwork - beautiful, but untouchable. At least, untouchable to me. Not to her. Not to Wellbelove. 

Simon takes a particularly bad step and she stumbles backwards (he always has been a clutz). He catches her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. He’s smiling down at her, and she’s smiling back up at him. _Repulsive_. I wasn’t convinced about them as a couple (and not just because I’m hopelessly jealous of her). When I flirted with her in Fifth year (another desperate attempt to ensure Snow and the others didn’t suspect my feelings for him), she definitely reciprocated. She was certainly _eager_ . But looking at them now … _They’re shining together. They’re glowing every shade of White and Gold._ It’s practically blinding. They’re a picture-perfect fairy tail - the pretty princess and her heroic prince charming. I'm the monstrous villain. Well, as long as the prince is happy, I suppose.

Then, a voice started me from my thoughts. I nearly whipped myself around at the sound - Thankfully, I caught myself before I did. I hadn’t realised I was no longer alone. How _embarrassing_. “He’ll never give her up, you know. Not without good reason,” they repeated.

“Hello, Bunce,” I answered, refusing to turn to look at her. I can’t tell if I’m blushing. It’s been a while since I’d fed, hopefully my cheeks are unable to betray me. Still, best not to risk it.

“You’re wasting your time. He thinks she’s his destiny - he can’t help himself. Believe me, I’ve tried talking some sense into them both.” She sounds tired. Snow’s poor long-suffering companion. I understand. Snow is certainly intelligent (although I’d never tell him that), but he can be painfully thick sometimes.

“What do you mean? Badmouthing Watford’s golden couple, Bunce. Tut Tut Tut,” I mock.

“They make each other miserable. Not always. Sometimes they - Sometimes it’s good. They’re just not right for each-other, though. I know it. She knows it too. I can see it in her eyes sometimes. It’s just, Simon isn’t quite there yet. He still thinks he's in love with her. I don't think he ever has been - not really”. That is … certainly not what I was expecting her to say.

“And why are you telling me all this?” I ask, genuinely curious. 

“Simon may be oblivious, but I’m not. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” _Oh._ Shit. She knows. Denial - that’s always served me well in the past.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, not quite managing to maintain my usual coolness.

“I think that you do, Baz. It’s okay. You can trust me. I’ve suspected for a while. I would never tell anyone - Not even him. Although, I think it would be in both of your best interests if I did.” I believe her. In spite of her more annoying personality traits, Bunce has always struck me as a fundamentally good person (she’s always been there for Simon when he needed her).

“Well as you said, he can’t help himself. Neither can I. I can, however, help the amount of damage my … “emotional affliction” does. I’m not going to tell him. I always thought - I thought I might, one day. But he doesn’t reciprocate. He can’t. He already has enough reasons to hate me. I’m not giving him another.”

“Boys. You can never just talk,” she sighs. “I love Simon, I do, but he’s oblivious, even about the way _he_ feels. You don’t have to do anything, like I said your secret’s safe with me. But, if you did. Tell him, that is. I think you’d be surprised. I’ve never seen anybody as invested in somebody as Simon is in you. He can tell himself he’s trying to catch you “plotting” all he wants, but it goes _way_ beyond that. He talks about you all the time - far more than he ever has about Agatha. I don't think you ever leave his mind. When you weren’t here at the start of the year he practically broke down. He was constantly on the verge of going off the whole time you were missing. I could hardly breathe over all his magic. Even if he doesn’t realise it, even if you don’t, I think he does reciprocate. And, even _if_ I’m somehow wrong (which I’m definitely not), he wouldn’t hate you for it. Honest,” she says. _Oh_. Okay. So, Bunce thinks I have a chance. Cool. Good. Great. Crowley. Stay calm, Basilton.

“Okay, Bunce. Whatever you say,” I reply, attempting to keep my voice as flat as possible. She sighs (again), and I hear her swing the door open behind me.

“I just want what is best for Simon. For you too, Baz. I know you don’t want to hurt him. I don’t think you ever have, not really. Neither of you are really happy as is. I just - I just want you to at least give yourselves the chance to be, before it’s too late.” And then, she was gone. 

I can feel my heart stuttering within my chest. My mind is racing. Bunce thinks I have a chance with Snow. Bunce thinks Snow may … return my affections. Bunce wouldn’t lie. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. She could be wrong though. And even if she’s not, he’s not going to give up Agatha. Nobody in their right mind would, I mean look at her. Should I tell him? Would it ruin everything? I mean, Snow already hates my guts, I’m not sure there is really much left to ruin. But, I can’t. I’m a monster, and Snow’s - well Snow’s decidedly _not_. I dedicated half my time at this bloody school to being as cruel to him as I possibly could. He could never never love me back, not the way I love him. 


	2. Can I Have This Dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this :)  
> It's a classic, cliche-filled learning how to dance with your supposed enemy chapter.

**Baz**

I’m at my desk, trying (and failing) to concentrate on my Greek essay, when Snow storms into the room. I haven’t seen him since earlier on the balcony. After what Bunce had said, I couldn’t face going to dinner. My mind was racing. It still is. “What’s ruffled your feathers, Snow?” I goad. “What are you doing? Why weren’t you at dinner?” he gruffs. “I’m studying, Snow. You should try it sometime, maybe then you wouldn’t be so hopeless” Again with the insults. I don’t really mean it of course, he’s the furthest thing from hopeless. Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. He probably has more magic in his little finger than I have in my whole body. He’s so strong, but even he is bound to struggle controlling all of that raw _energy_. “You’re such a prick,” he snarls, stomping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. I should apologise. I want to apologise - but I’ve set a precedent. No apologies. If I took it back now, he’d just wonder why. He’d probably suspect it’s part of some grand scheme I’d devised to kill him (I don’t want to kill him). I doubt he’s perceptive enough to realise the truth. Either way, I still need to keep up my act - Better safe than sorry. Perhaps I should just tell him? Bunce thinks I have a chance. Maybe she’s right. She thinks that Snow and Wellbelove aren’t right for each other. I’ve always thought that - but that’s just because I’m jealous. I doubt she's jealous, everyone knows she’s got a “thing” for that American exchange. Does he really feel the same? There is a chance he may. Admittedly, a very minute chance - but a chance nonetheless.

* * *

Snow is tossing and turning. I’m shrouded in the scent of his magic - all smoke and fire. It’s intoxicating. I’ve been waiting for him to fall asleep for at least two hours now, as I desperately need to go down to the catacombs and feed. With everything he’s been through, Snow has never been the most peaceful sleeper. He’s always been plagued with nightmares. I’ve even had to resort to casting “ ** _Sweet Dreams_ ** ” on him a few times - it’s painful watching him when they get bad. Writhing around, pleading in his sleep. I’d do anything to make them stop. I’m sparing with the sleep spells, though. I don’t want him to get suspicious. He can’t know how painfully soft I am when it comes to him. Despite all of this, he doesn’t usually struggle _falling_ asleep. Something must be troubling him. 

“What’s wrong, Snow? The Mage making you do his bidding again?” I tease. He just scoffs quietly in response, and then room falls back into silence. I look over at him - his curls are splayed in a mess against his pillow and he has his back to me. Suddenly, he whips his body round to face mine, his duvet tangling around his legs. I don’t know whether he can see me in the dark. I can always see him - but the whole vampire thing is a bit of an advantage in that respect.

“You’re proper posh aren’t you, Baz? he asks, his voice heavy with tiredness. I can’t help but snicker. “Shut up. I just - I just mean you’ve been to balls and stuff like that before, right?”

“Yes. I’ve been to a few,” I reply, hesitantly. Why on earth is Snow asking me about this right now? Is that seriously what’s been keeping him up, whether or not I’ve been to a dance before? He huffs. Snow’s always huffing and puffing - he’s never been the best with words.

“It’s just - I was wondering if you would help me? I know you don’t really like me and stuff, but I need help." Truth is - I’d do anything for him. As I said, I’m incredibly soft when it comes to Snow.

“Help you with what?” I ask.

“Dancing,” he answers plainly (as if asking your enemy for dancing lessons isn’t even remotely strange).

“Dancing?”

“Yeah. You know, moving around to music.”

“I know what dancing is, Snow,” I deadpan. “I mean, why are you asking me to help? Last I heard, you were under Wellbelove’s _expert_ tutelage.”

“I was,” he grumbles “She got mad at me ‘cause I scuffed her boots. She says she doesn’t want to help anymore. I asked Penny, but she doesn’t know how to dance either. I just figured you would know. I can help you with something back if you want. Please, Baz.” Merlin and Morgana. How could I refuse that. I should say no, but I’m weak.

“Okay. You don’t need to help me back, though.”

“You’ll help me?” he says, disbelieving.

“That’s what I just said. Do you need a hearing test, Snow?”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, Cheers. That’s great,” he says. “But you’re sure you don’t want something back. I could pay you. I mean, I don’t really have any money - I have some leprechaun gold though. You could have some of that. I don't know if you can spend that in any shops though, sorry.” I scoff again, suppressing the smile that is threatening to break across my face.

“That won’t be necessary. Like I said, I don’t need you to give me anything back. Call it a goodbye present.” I feel my throat tighten at the thought. No more Simon. Only nine days together left. Christ. I have to tell him, before it’s too late. I have to do it. He flashes me a soft smile.

“Cheers, Baz. I knew you weren’t all bad,” he murmurs, chuckling softly. I feel my stomach flutter. I’m so far gone.

“It’s no problem, Snow. We wouldn’t want the Chosen One to be bested by a Waltz - that would be horrifically embarrassing. Although, I must warn you, if you scuff _my_ shoes, there _will_ be consequences. I’m not quite as forgiving as Wellbelove.” That earns me a proper smile. He’s beaming across at me now, his dimple popping handsomely. I feel my heart swell within my chest at the sight of him. I wish he always looked at me this way. I wish I didn't have to be his enemy. 

“I know, I know. You’ll throw me to the merwolves - blah, blah blah,” he teases, rolling back over to face the wall. “Does tomorrow after tea sound okay?”

I make a vague “Mm” noise in response - not trusting my voice not to waver.

“Okay. Thanks again. N’Night, Baz,” he says, his voice barely a whisper now.

“Goodnight, Snow.” Aleister Crowley - I am in way over my head. 

* * *

When I return from dinner, he’s sat on his bed waiting for me. “Hey,” he says, picking at his thumbs. I think he’s nervous. I know I am. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to agree to this. Generally, I’d consider myself to be an intelligent person - but agreeing to dance with Snow was definitely incomprehensibly _stupid_.

“Good Evening, Snow. Shall we get this over with? I reply, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant. I definitely sound tense. I feel tense - How could I not? I’m almost certainly going to cock this up. Not the dancing, I’m actually fairly good at that (thanks to Daphne insisting that I take dancing lessons at the weekends all throughout primary school). Snow may be oblivious, but (despite my best efforts) I’m not _actually_ unreadable. Bunce saw right through me. If I'm dancing with him, holding him like _that_ , something is sure to slip. Knowing my luck, I’ll probably pop a boner or something mortifying like that.

“Sure thing,” he says, raking a hand through his curls. “There’s a storage room we can use. More room in there. I’d probably just end up smashing one of our lamps if we stay here. Is that okay?”

“Certainly. Lead the way”, I say gesturing towards the door. 

I cast a quick **_“You shall not pass”_ ** on the door as I close it behind us. If somebody walked in on us, I’m not sure how I could feasibly explain what we are about to do. The storage room was clearly abandoned long ago. Cobwebs have taken over nearly every available surface. While I’m not necessarily phased by the cobwebs, I cast a **_“Clean as a Whistle”_ **spell for good measure (I’d rather not have to rewash my blazer after we’re done). When I turn around, Snow is staring at me blankly. Honestly, I think he forgets he’s a mage half the time. He could do these spells too, if he wanted. 

“How should we start then?” he asks.

“Well, I presume you want to lead. Correct?”

“Lead?” he asks, tilting his head confusion. I sigh, kneading my knuckles against my brow bone.

“Did Wellbelove teach you anything? Lead the dance, Snow. If it helps, generally speaking, the guy leads and the girl follows.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah I want to lead, then. I don’t think Agatha would want to do it the other way,” he bumbles.

“Okay then,” I say, taking a deep breath. My pulse is racing. I need to pull myself together. I mutter an **“If music be the food of love, play on”** spell under my breath - I can’t have Snow overhearing _that_. A lot of Shakespeare spells only work if you’re in love, this particular one is no exception to that trend. The room fills with the soft melody of violins, and I take a step towards him. We’re barely thirty centimetres apart now. We’ve never been this close - not when we aren’t fighting. “Okay, so. The lead typically places one hand on their partner’s shoulder and the other in their hand,” I say, holding out my right hand in offering. I’m playing with fire here - I’m sure I’m going to get burnt.

“Sure, cool.” He slips his left hand into mine and laces our fingers together loosely. His hands are rougher than mine, calloused slightly, and ever so warm. Snow’s all heat - he’s so _alive_ . He smiles up at me slightly and I dart my eyes down towards the floor. I can’t look at him right now. Not when he’s this close. My eyes would almost certainly betray me - like I said, even I’m not _un_ readable. Hesitantly, he reaches up and slides his other hand over my shoulder, tugging me impossibly closer as he does. I've wanted this for so long. I hold my breath - somehow, I'm afraid that if I don't, I'll shatter this fragile moment and scare him away from me. His touch is electric and I’m a live wire. I feel it radiating through every cell in my body - lighting me up from within. Together we’re a complete circuit, and I’m electrified. I’m _alive_. I wonder, does he feel it too? 

I clear my throat, bringing myself back down to reality. “Alright then, Snow. We will start off with the basic steps. It’s really very simple, even you should be able to manage. Just listen to what I tell you and try to move in time with the music, okay?” 

“Uh yeah. Sounds good,” he mumbles, shifting his hand within mine slightly.

“Okay. All you need to do is a basic box step following a three-count tempo,” I explain. I risk looking up at him again. He’s staring at me blankly, his mouth scrunched up to the side in confusion. Honestly, I’m not convinced Wellbelove tried _at all_. I sigh. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. “You’re a certified moron, Snow.”

“Yeah? And you're a twat,” he grumbles. I gaze back down at my shoes.

“Just - Just take a step forward with your left foot.” He goes to move his right foot - Honestly, this boy is impossible. “I said your _left_ foot. Are you brain-dead?”. He doesn’t respond to that, but he corrects himself and steps his left foot forward. “Good, that’s what you do on the first beat of the tempo. Next, take a step forward and to the side with your _right_ foot. That’s what you do on the second beat of the tempo” He obliges, stepping sideways clumsily. “Acceptable. Now all you need to do is move your right foot back to meet your left one. Even you can’t cock that up.” He follows my instruction and chuckles quietly to himself when he's finished. “There you go, Snow. Now all we have to do today is get to the point where you can do that - except actually in time to the music and not so fragmented.”

“Okay. Thanks, Baz. With your help I’ll be a dance master in no time. You’re a much better teacher than Aggie,” he said, squeezing my hand gently. _Oh no._ I think I’m blushing. Curse him and his bloody hand holding. I can feel his eyes boring into me - I refuse to meet them still. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let him get so close. I’m going to give myself away. I take a deep breath, desperately trying to myself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re far from an expert. And, while I appreciate your attempt at flattery, my threat still stands - _do not_ scuff my shoes or there will be hell to pay.” 

* * *

We’ve been dancing for at least an hour now. Simon really can’t dance - he has all the natural rhythm of a lump of granite. But he’s trying. I’ve done my best to keep my gaze on the floor, but occasionally I’d catch a glimpse of him subconsciously poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth (he tends to do that when he’s concentrating). It was painfully cute - the sight of him practically made me melt. We haven’t spoken much (bar the occasional insult or instruction), but every so often he’d smile up at me or give my hand a quick squeeze. I wish he wouldn’t. Well ... That’s not _exactly_ true. I’d gladly take anything Snow is willing to give me. Every smile. Every squeeze. He's setting my body on fire, and it burns in the best possible way. But, it’s not what I want - not really. I crave more. And, these small concessions aren’t satiating me - they’re only making me hungrier. Hungrier for him. I want _everything_ Snow has to give. His body. His heart. His mind. His soul. Everything. But, that’s not what we are. Despite this strange dance lesson truce, we’re still enemies (of sorts). We’re moving slowly around the room when he blunders - _badly_ (taking a step forwards rather than backwards). Our foreheads collide with a loud thud, sending Snow falling backwards onto the stone floor, and dragging me down with him. 

I’m laying on top of him now - our bodies pressed humiliatingly tight together. Our eyes meet. His pupils are blown so wide there is hardly any blue left, and his eyes are practically popping out of his skull with the shock of it all. He’s staring up at me, his mouth hanging open uselessly. This is _mortifying_. And it's all his bloody fault - the blithering idiot. My pulse has skyrocketed, and I can feel my heart hammering relentlessly against my chest. And that's when I feel it - my blood rushing downwards. Alesteir Crowley. This is _not_ happening. Just stake me now. I leap up off of him as quickly as I can manage, and storm over to the door. “Lesson over,” I shout, swinging it open violently. I cast a quick **_“Silence in the library”_ **bringing the soft music to an abrupt stop, and charge out of the room. I hear him call out to me behind me, but I refuse to turn back. I knew I was playing with fire. I knew I was going to get burnt - Yet I did it anyway. And now, here we are. I’ve ruined everything. 

**Simon**

Fuck! Agatha was right, I am a hopeless dancer. I thought it was going well with Baz, as well. I much prefer dancing with _him_ \- He’s a far better teacher. It was actually fun with him. And now I’ve ruined everything. _Typical_ . When I asked, I didn’t expect him to say yes - But then he did. I was so excited. I knew I’d probably mess it up somehow. I’m a walking disaster - it was bound to happen. I didn’t mean to make us fall. I just got a bit distracted (I was trying to figure out what he was staring at on the floor). Now I’ve upset him. He didn’t even seem angry - just frightened? I don't know why Baz would be afraid of _me_ , but he bolted out of that room pretty much as fast as humanly possible. I must’ve made him uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to do that - He was doing me a favour. I didn’t mean to ruin it. There is no way he’s going to want to help me now. I want him to help me. I want to keep dancing with Baz. It felt _good_. But, now I've managed to screw it all up. Fuck, I'm such a moron. 

I sit up, pulling my knees towards my chest. My magic is bubbling dangerously close to the surface, rolling angrily within my veins. I need to calm down, otherwise I'll end up going off again. Nobody wants that. My throat feels really tight. I think I might cry - my eyes are prickling weirdly. I won’t cry. I don’t normally cry, even when it feels like I might. Not since I was little, anyway. The last time, one of the boys from the care home had stolen my ball while I was asleep. I bawled my eyes out when I realised it was missing. I was like ten though, so it's forgivable - I'd never cry like that _now_ (The Mage would just tell me I need to strengthen up, if I did). It doesn’t even really matter about the dancing - I only wanted to learn how because Agatha told me I should and I really didn’t want to embarrass her. I _always_ feel like I’m embarrassing her. She’s so _refined,_ and I’m so … Well, I’m just not. Baz is refined. They’re similar in that way. Baz is different in a lot of ways too though. Anyway, I don’t think it’s the dancing that’s upsetting me. I think I’m upset because I’ve upset him. I’ve made Baz angry before - I have the scars from our numerous childhood scrapes to prove it. That's familiar - that's all part of our game. That doesn't make me feel like this. I’ve never made him sad before, though. Well, not that I’m aware of - maybe I have (we haven’t always been the nicest to one another). I need to fix this. I’m just not sure how. Me and Baz don’t really talk all that much. But, we also didn’t hold each other’s hand or dance together until today - That change wasn’t so bad. So, maybe we could start. 

* * *

When I get back to the room, Baz is sat on his bed reading a book. It had been about an hour since the whole dancing fiasco - I stopped off at the kitchens on my way back here. I tend to eat when I’m tense. Penny says I need to find a more healthy “coping mechanism”, but I don’t really see the problem with it. He glances up at me, assessing me with a cool gaze, before looking back down at his book. He doesn't seem too bothered about me being back. The room smells of his fancy shower gel and his hair is slightly damp - He must’ve had a shower while I was gone. I’m still standing awkwardly just inside our doorway. I probably should've gone and sat on my bed - That would've been more normal. "Hey,” I say, nervously tapping my fingers against my thigh. “I’m sorry about earlier.” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look up at me. I should’ve known he'd try to make this as difficult for me as possible - He can be such a prick sometimes. I scrape my fingers through my hair. I don’t really know what to do now. I sort of assumed he’d at least answer me (he doesn’t often turn down an opportunity to insult me). Shit. I must’ve really upset him. “I didn’t mean to - you know. I didn’t mean to pull you over. It was an accident. And I’m really really sorry. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something. Can we? You know can we still do it tomorrow? The dancing lessons I mean.” This time he puts the book down. He looks up at me, an elegant eyebrow raised in question. I continue talking. I don't really know why, I can't seem to stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. “I just mean that today was really fun. Well, you know - until I messed it up. But if you still wanted to, I’d really like to do it again tomorrow. You don’t have to say yes. Obviously. But it would be cool if you did. And I promise next time I fall I’ll make sure I let go of you first. Well ... I can't really promise that. But, I promise I’ll try to.” I stop, holding my arms across my body awkwardly. I don’t really know what else I can say to convince him. Maybe this was a stupid idea - I am prone to those. 

** Baz **

Mercifully, it seems as though Snow is blissfully unaware of the reason behind my sudden departure. He’d definitely be a lot more freaked out right now if he had realised. Thank Crowley for his seemingly endless incognizance. I’ve at least managed to retain _some_ of my dignity then - That’s good. But, Snow actually had fun today. I mean, I did too (obviously)- underneath all the stress of trying to remain outwardly unbothered by our physical proximity. However, I suspect we enjoyed it for rather different reasons. But, in spite of all the weirdness today, Snow wants to do this again. And really, who am I to deny him? Given ... how I feel, there are certainly worse things I could be doing than dancing with Snow. Honestly, it’s a delightful sort of torture - holding him so close, while a thousand unsaid words separate us still. I want this, and (for whatever reason) he wants this too. I can’t be certain he feels the same way I do. Bunce said she didn’t think he realised it himself. If he isn’t sure himself, how can I be? The only way to find out is to tell him. I want to. I need to - I can’t leave Watford never knowing. It would torture me. Alas, I’m unsure I’m courageous enough to take that risk. As such, this may be all I’ll ever get with Snow. Why deny myself what little I have? It can’t possibly go worse than it already has. “Okay, Snow,” I concede, ensuring my tone remains indifferent. “Same time tomorrow. After dinner.” His face cracks into a bright smile at that.

“Brilliant. Thanks, Baz. I really am sorry about today - I promise tomorrow will be better. You’re amazing … You know, for helping me out and everything. Thanks so much.”

**Simon**

Why did I say that? I need to calm down - I’m going to freak him out. I don’t know why it feels so important to me that he agreed. I mean, I liked dancing with Baz today (obviously) It felt different. I liked holding him. Not in a weird way, it’s just when he’s with me he’s not out there planning my demise. He’s right where I want him. I mean it’s just dancing, I’ve danced with other people before. Last Christmas Eve, I danced with Agatha and Mrs Wellbelove (not very well, I didn’t do any proper steps like today - but it still counts). It feels different with Baz, though. I don’t know why. He’s just a good teacher, I suppose. I don’t feel as awkward dancing with him as I do with Agatha and her mum. It feels _right_ , somehow. Baz is the last person I’d expect to like dancing with. I mean he’s _evil_. Well, not really evil - But he’s a vampire. And he’s always plotting (he’s wicked smart). But, I definitely like this better than fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)  
> I have the next chapter of this fic already written, so the next update should be coming fairly soon.  
> Also, the title of this chapter may or may not be a reference to High School Musical.  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	3. Out Of My Reach

**Baz**

The rest of the week passed quickly. Fortunately, the rest of our “lessons” went off without a hitch. Snow managed to stay upright, and I managed to avoid humiliating myself further. Everyday, after dinner, we’d lock ourselves away in that storage room. And, in those private moments, we were transformed. We weren’t enemies. We were - Well I’m not entirely sure what we were. Friends? Perhaps. Something had definitely shifted between us, though. When we were alone together, like that, the air felt charged somehow. A burning hot, electric energy buzzing around us relentlessly. We never acknowledged it - The way it felt. It probably didn’t feel the same way for him. Although, sometimes I wasn’t so sure. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of him and he looked … Well, he looked just as flustered as I felt. All rosy cheeks and nervous lip biting. It was as though he felt it too. Maybe he did? Maybe it wasn’t just me - But, alas, it most likely was. He probably just felt uncomfortable with our new-found closeness. It was all slightly awkward. Not bad - Not in the slightest. I didn’t mind the odd feeling that hung between us. Being allowed to hold Simon that close (without needing the excuse of a fight) … How could I possibly complain? We hardly spoke. We just moved together - Always holding our breath and averting our eyes. It felt fragile. Vulnerable. We were stumbling through uncharted territory together. We never spoke about it, though. Once we were back in our room, we fell straight back into our usual game - arguing with him about the blasted window, antagonising one another at every given opportunity, all the while pretending not to be irrevocably in love with him. The usual charade. 

Tonight's the night of the Leavers Ball. Our last night at Watford. Our last night in Mummers. Our last night together. I still haven’t told him. I just can’t find the words. How are you supposed to tell someone who thinks that you hate them, that you’ve actually been hopelessly in love with them for several years? I’ve imagined it time and time again in my head, endless ways to say “I love you”. But when it comes to real life, none of my words ever feel right. Even if I had found the perfect words, I’ve never managed to find the courage. And now, I’m pretty much out of time.

I’m busy smoothing down my hair, when I catch his reflection in the mirror as he steps out of the bathroom. He looks  _ exquisite _ . He’s wearing a suit _. _ Black trousers and a matching waistcoat, and a rich velvet jacket - deep blue with black lapels _.  _ It must be Dr Wellbelove’s (Judging by his atrocious Robin Hood getup, I doubt the Mage would own something so stylish). He’s parted his hair properly (probably for the first time in his life), and his bronze curls are smoothed neatly to one side. Merlin and Morgana! Is he  _ trying _ to kill me? He walks across the room to his bed, picking a silky black tie off of his duvet, and plops himself down on the floor next to me in front of the mirror. “Budge up,” he says, bumping his shoulder into mine lightly. I do as I’m told, and he starts fiddling around with his tie. “Your hair looks nice. I tried to do mine like yours, it didn’t really work though. Too knotty” he says absentmindedly, gesturing vaguely towards his head.  _ What? _ Simon Snow just said he liked my hair. Simon Snow just said he tried to do his hair like mine.  _ Pitiful _ . One compliment from him and I’m having some kind of major malfunction. I’m staring at him. I can see myself in the mirror, brainlessly gawping at his reflection. He's still fiddling about with his tie, knotting it up horrendously, acting like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just say  _ that _ . Aleister Crowley. I need to say something. Anything. “Are you genuinely inept?” I chide. Oh  _ no _ , not that. Why would I say that? Something else. I need to say something else. “You’ll choke yourself. Come here,” I say, turning myself around to the side. What am I doing? He turns to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, a confused pout adorning his face. He’s irritatingly adorable. “Your tie,” I explain, “Let me help you.” 

“Oh, sure. Cheers,” he says, turning to face me properly. I shift forward slightly, and lift my hands to his collar, starting to sort out the mess he’s made of his tie. His pulse is racing against my hands. He’s probably afraid. In spite of how oblivious he can be, Snow has managed to figure out that I'm a vampire. He’s not wearing his cross. He probably thinks I might bite. I won’t bite him - I’d never bite him. He’s so close to me, his face barely thirty centimetres from mine. I can see every freckle. Every little line on his face. Every detail (as if I haven’t memorised them all already). For a second, I could swear I see his pupil’s dilate, black hungrily swallowing blue. I must be losing my mind.  If I wasn’t a coward, I’d lean down and kiss him. Forget words. I could just show him. He’s right here, within my reach, looking up at me. He’s right where I want him. But, I am a coward. Simon always has been the brave one, not me. So I don’t. I simply finish up his tie, pull my hands away, and let him turn his head back away from mine. Out of my reach again. Gone. I’m a constant disappointment to myself. 

He shoots up off the floor then, heading towards our door, mumbling out a quick “Thanks, Baz. Sorry, I’ve got to dash. Penny and Agatha will be waiting for me. I’m already running late.” Then he stops, his hand hovering just above the doorknob. “Baz, I-'' he starts, turning to face me once again. For a split second, I imagine him telling me “The truth is, I’m desperately in love with you”, but that’s wishful thinking (obviously). Instead, he simply swallows and says “I’ll see you at the dance, yeah? And you know - Thanks … for everything,” flashing a somewhat shy smile at me before turning away and leaving. 

I flop down onto my bed, exhausted. I should have told him. I won’t get to talk to him properly before tomorrow - I imagine he’ll be out all night living it up with Bunce and Wellbelove. That was it … my last shot. My last shot to tell him and I bottled it. I’ve really blown it this time. Crowley, I am a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	4. Looking Right Through Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... This chapter kind of sucks. It's definitely my least favourite chapter. I needed to move the story along, but I really struggled with how to write this scene. It certainly isn't my best work, but I've tried my best with it. I've already started writing the next chapter and I feel like it's going really well (certainly, infinitely better than this chapter did), so the rest of the fic should be miles better. Hopefully you still enjoy it though :) Sorry it's not that good

**Simon**

I’m supposed to be concentrating on dancing with Agatha, but all I can think about is Baz. He’s late. He’s never late to anything - He’s far too perfect for that. Sometimes, when I oversleep he throws something at me (to wake me up) and gives me a condescending lecture about how “Punctuality is important”. So, I don’t know why he’s late. He said he'd be here. Why isn’t he here? 

Agatha’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Simon. What on earth are you doing? You just stopped moving. Are you going to go off or something - Your magic is all weird again. If you’re going to go off, I’m going to leave,” she scolds. She looks lovely today. She’s wearing a beautiful flowy blue dress (she said our clothes’ colours had to match), and her hair is in a low bun which she’s decorated with little sparkly gems. Baz wears his hair in a bun like that sometimes - Minus the gems (Obviously). I like buns. You can see people’s faces better when their hair is in a bun.

“Sorry, Aggie. I’m not going off, don’t worry. I just zoned out. Sorry,” I say, starting to move to the music once again. Her lips quirk upwards slightly at that. She doesn’t smile much anymore when she’s with me. Not properly anyway - Just little half smiles. Sometimes I worry I don’t make her happy. I want to make her happy, I really do. Me and Agatha don’t always get along (she says she doesn’t like getting dragged into all my “shenanigans”). I think she wants me to be more normal, really. I do too sometimes, so I understand. I know being with me is difficult for her - Especially when I go off (she hates when I go off). But even if she doesn’t like what I am, I still want her to be happy. She’s always been good to me. She always invites me to Christmas at her house. And, she buys me nice clothes. She even helps me with my missions sometimes. She’s good at all that girlfriend stuff. But, sometimes I think she might want us to break up again. She’s broken up with me a few times. I broke up with her once too (after the whole “thing” with Baz in the woods). I don’t think I want to break up again, though. I like having Aggie - It’s nice having someone to go to dances with and stuff. 

I do my best to keep dancing, focusing on sticking to the steps Baz taught me. I don’t want to ruin the night for her - I just have to stop thinking about Baz. He should be here, though. Dev and Niall are here, he was supposed to arrive with them. I wish I knew why he didn’t. 

* * *

I’m dancing to some Abba song with Agatha, when the chapel doors fly open behind her, smacking against the walls with a loud crack. I whip my head around, and there he is. Baz - Standing in the doorway, a smug smirk plastered across his face. He knows everyone’s eyes are on him. Arrogant prick. He must’ve cast an **_“Open Sesame”_** to ensure his presence wouldn’t go unnoticed - He always has been a drama queen. I hear Penelope sigh behind me (we haven't spoken much this evening, as she's been busy dancing with some guy from our Magickal History class, but I know she's probably thinking the same as me right now). He swaggers across the room to where Dev and Niall are standing, throwing me a teasing wave as he walks past. Classic Baz - Just sauntering in as if he owns the place. I feel Agatha pulling at my wrist, trying to pull my attention back to her.

“Simon. Come on. Just for one night, just ignore him” she pleads. I wish I could, but people like Baz just demand attention - I can never seem to keep my eyes off of him. I feel my magic bubbling up within my veins. I’m not angry - Not really. I’m actually quite glad he’s here, I was beginning to worry something had happened to him. Not that it would matter if something had. Well ... I’m not sure if that's really true - I think we’re sort of friends now. I want to be - It felt much better being friendly with him these last few days, than it ever has fighting him. He’s actually quite nice to be around … When he wants to be, that is. I mean, I’ve always wanted to be around him - But that was only because I thought he was plotting. But it feels different somehow. I don't know. He's here now, though - So, everything is okay. I feel very hot and I think I’m blushing - This dumb suit has far too many layers. Anyway, I really need to get back to concentrating on my dancing, Aggie would probably be upset if I just stood here gawping at Baz for the rest of the evening. 

* * *

Baz has been standing talking to Miss Possibelf for the hour (I know because I’ve been stealing glances at him over Agatha’s head the whole time). He looks a bit sad? His face looks the same as normal (I’m not sure Baz actually knows how to express emotions on his face), but his eyes look dull and he keeps raking his hands though his hair like he's stressed. I wonder what’s wrong. Dev and Niall are both preoccupied with their dates - So, Maybe he’s just lonely? Where’s his girl? He can be incredibly charming, and Baz is certainly attractive enough to have gotten himself a date. All the girls in our Chemistry class practically drool over him, they’re always arguing over who gets to partner up with him - He could’ve easily convinced one of them to go with him. Hell, Agatha would probably have gone with him if he had asked (she says nothing happened in Fifth Year, and I believe her, but I know she definitely wanted something to). Maybe I should go and talk to him. I mean that’s clearly a stupid idea - Agatha would be mad at me if I ditched her to talk to him (she thinks I’m obsessed him), and I’m almost definitely the last person Baz would want to talk to right now. But, he really does look upset - Maybe he’s desperate enough to actually appreciate my companionship. 

I’m about to give in and go over to him, when he marches off towards the bathroom. I should follow him. I need to know what’s wrong. Not that it really matters - Just, it could be something serious. I drop Agatha’s hand and pull my arms back towards myself. “I’m just going to pop to the loo,” I explain. 

She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.  _ Uh oh _ . “You’re going after Baz aren’t you? I’m not stupid Simon, you’ve been staring at him the whole night,” she says, exasperated. 

“No,” I lie. That was dumb. Everyone can always tell when I’m lying - Penny says I always talk with an “upward inflection” when I lie, I don’t really know what that means, but it’s very annoying. Agatha definitely knows. 

“I’m right here, and it’s like you don’t even care. All you ever do is look right through me straight at him. It's like I'm just an inconvenient distraction to you. Merlin, Simon! You're so obsessed” she says, turning to walk away from me. 

“Agatha, wait,” I plead, grabbing her wrist loosely. She turns, her eyes meeting mine once again. “Just go and dance with Baz. Clearly he’s who you want to be with. I’ll go dance with Penny, she’s been begging me all evening. But, I’m done being second best, Okay? I’m done. I deserve better than that, and you deserve to be with who you want. Let's just stop pretending to be something we're not."

“Wh- What do you mean you’re done?” I ask. 

“We’re over, Simon. It’s clearly not working between us. You’d rather chase your roommate around than be with me. And, this just isn’t what I want anymore. I don’t feel the way I should feel about a boyfriend about you, Simon. And, it’s pretty obvious you don’t feel that way about me either.”

“But, you’re my destiny. We’re meant to be together,” I argue. 

“So you’re destined to spend your life with someone you don’t love? Simon," she says, laughing sardonically. " I’m not your destiny. I’m not some prize you win when all of  _ this _ is over. Just go and talk to Baz. You don’t have to stay with me - Neither of us really want that. It’s fine, Simon. Just go.”

“Okay,” I say, staggered “I’m really sorry, Aggie. I never meant to upset you.” I mean it - I never meant to make her feel like I was ignoring her. I mean she’s not really wrong - I’d rather be with Baz right now. And, I have been paying far more attention to him than to her this evening. But, it’s not in the way she makes it sound. I didn't mean to upset her. And, I don't want to  _ date _ Baz. I probably shouldn’t have been paying more attention to him than my girlfriend (well, ex-girlfriend now), though. Maybe when we were doing our dancing lessons he used his vampire thrall against me (I read about thrall in the library once, it's pretty wicked). Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from him. That _would_ explain it (Well, it would explain why I've been doing it _recently_ , anyway). 

She smiles softly at me then. “I’m going to go find Penny, okay? " She says. And then, she's gone - Leaving me standing _alone_ in the middle of the dance floor. I think I should cry (that’s what people normally do when they get broken up with), but I don’t really feel like I need to. I thought I loved Agatha, but now we’re over I don’t really feel that bothered. Maybe Agatha was right about us? I mean, I’m certainly not heartbroken - I’m more embarrassed than anything. It is fairly humiliating to be stood here like this. Based on how I'm acting it certainly doesn't seem like I was in love with her - The people in the movies would never have such a lacklustre response to being dumped by their beloved. I've never really been the best at understanding what I'm feeling, though. Oh well. I still really need to find Baz. I need to find out if he's alright. 

I turn and take one last look at Agatha - She’s found Penny and they’re spinning each other around the dance floor, smiling at one another. I guess Agatha isn’t that bothered either - That’s good, I’d feel terrible if I ruined her night. Contented that everything is alright, I turn and hurry towards the bathroom after Baz. I really hope he’s still there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	5. Crying In My Prom Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took a little longer than the others. It's fairly long though and this is definitely one of my favourite chapters so far, so hopefully it was worth the wait :)  
> I hope you enjoy.

**Baz**

This is undoubtedly a new low. I’m sitting, crying on the floor of the school’s bathroom stall. _I am such a disgrace_. I spelled the stall clean prior to sitting down (obviously), but I will still be needing at _least_ an hour in the shower later - It’s a particularly grim place to have chosen to have my little breakdown. I don’t often cry, in fact I pride myself in my near unfaltering ability to suppress any emotion above purely neutral. However, tonight everything finally got the better of me. Everything simply got to be too much. 

I guess that, faced with the reality of leaving Watford, I just feel overwhelmingly disappointed. Everyone else has been talking about how amazing their time here has been, but I can’t say I feel the same. Of course, there are some positives - Academically I excelled (and I genuinely enjoyed learning here), Dev and Niall have always been there for me, and most of the teachers were lovely. And, of course, there is Snow. But, on balance, it just feels as though I’m ending on a low. Watford was the place that my mother was murdered, the place I became _what_ I am - So, I never expected to adore it. But, I at least expected to look back on my time here as being an overall positive. Unfortunately, it just hasn’t been. I wasn’t leaving Watford with a wealth of lifelong friends (my outwardly cold demeanour ensured that few really got close enough to become more than a casual acquaintance). I wasn’t leaving Watford with the love of my life in my arms (I’ll never get the chance to tell Snow now, he’s still wrapped up with Wellbelove). I wasn’t leaving Watford feeling as though I'd made my Father proud (he didn’t really react much at all when I told him I finished top of the year). I suppose I just expected _more._ Looking back on my time here - I have far too many regrets. What if I had told Snow how I feel? What if I had allowed more people to _really_ get to know me? What if I hadn’t pushed so many people away? I just feel bitter. It seems everybody got their happy ending - Everybody, but me. They were all dancing about with their lovers or friends, and I was standing there talking to the bloody Magic Words teacher. _Pathetic._ All in all, it was a pretty miserable excuse for a final farewell party. 

**Simon**

When I shuffle into the bathroom the sound immediately hits me - Sniffling. Somebody is definitely crying. _Baz_ is crying. Merlin, he really _must_ be upset - I’ve never seen Baz cry. I’ve rarely even seen him crack a smile. 

“Baz? Is that you?” I ask, hesitantly. 

“Crowley, Snow. You seriously can’t let me out of your sight for more than five minutes, can you? Am I not allowed even a moment of privacy? You are _frustratingly_ persistent in your endeavour to become _the most annoying_ Mage to ever live,” he croaks. His words are clearly supposed to be his usual brand of biting, but the cracking of his voice softens the blow significantly. 

“What’s wrong? Whatever it is you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anybody else." 

“It is _none_ of your concern, Snow. Go back to your ball”

“It _is_ my concern. Just … Let me in. I want to talk to you. If you don’t, I’ll have to try and spell the door open. You probably don’t want that ... There is a fairly high chance that might backfire," I continue, unbothered by his attempts to turn me away.

“Merlin. Fine,” he sighs. “But breathe a word of this to anybody, _including_ Bunce, and I will not hesitate to murder you. And, I can assure you I will not afford you the mercy of a quick death.”

I laugh then, and I hear the quiet click of the lock. I push the door open lightly, and plop myself down on the floor beside him, locking the door behind myself. He’s hugging his legs against his chest, and has his chin rested on top of his knees. He’s hanging his head forward, clearly trying to hide his face behind his sheet of black hair. I’ve never seen Baz look anything less than perfect (even now he looks frustratingly put together for a bloke who is sat crying on the floor of a bathroom). But, he looks smaller now than I’ve ever seen him. Fragile, almost. My heart constricts at the sight of him. I sort of want to hug him - I definitely shouldn’t though, he’d probably snap my neck if I tried. 

“Are you okay?” I whisper. 

“Yes, Snow. As you can see, I’m positively ecstatic,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Sorry. That was a bit of a stupid question, I know. Just … Just tell me whats wrong” 

He looks over at me then. His cheeks are glistening where he’s been crying, and his nose is slightly flushed. The urge to hug him swells up within me, again. 

“I _tried_ to tell you it was none of your concern, Snow. But, you’re so bloody headstrong, you’d probably end up blowing us both up trying to unlock the door,” he scoffs. 

“Probably,” I mumble. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll just have to keep guessing until I get it right. I can always tell when you’re lying, so I’ll know when I get it.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “Go on then, Snow. Dazzle me.”

“Did your date not show up? Is that why you were late? Were you waiting for someone?” 

“No, Snow. I didn’t have a date. Try again.” he says, his voice unnaturally flat. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s stopped crying now (his voice isn’t as shaky anymore) - That's good. 

“Why not? Loads of girls fancy you, I’m sure you could’ve found a date easily,” I ask.

“Well, I’m afraid the feeling is not reciprocated. And, nobody really likes me, Snow. I’m not you, remember. I doubt everyone is as willing to go with me as you think. Besides, the person I wanted to go with already has a date. I’m not so insecure I need to take somebody I have no real interest in.”

“Oh,” I say, dumbfounded, Baz _never_ gives this much about himself away. “Well, I like you. Loads of other people do too - I’m certain. Penny always says you’re smart. So, I’m sure somebody would’ve wanted to go with you. But, I understand that's not what you want. My point still stands though. But, Does - I mean, does the person you wanted to go with know that you did? They might not really like whoever they ended up going with … They may have wanted to go with you too. Maybe they were just waiting for you to ask?” 

“No. I can assure you they are _very_ happy with their date. They wouldn’t have wanted to go with me.” 

I sigh. He can be so stubborn sometimes. He can’t know for sure if he never even tried. “Okay,” I concede. “Well … Did Miss Posibelf say something that upset you?”

That earns me another eyebrow raise. “Spying on me again, Snow?,” he says, smirking. I don’t respond. He pauses then, his eyes scanning across my face as if he was trying to figure something out. “Look. I know you think you always have to be the hero, but you don’t. You don’t have to do this. Just - Just go have fun with Wellbelove - She’ll be waiting for you. Despite what you may think, I really don’t want to ruin your perfect last night together. You’ve established I’m not in here plotting, so you can go now. Everything is fine, Snow.” 

I frown. “No. Everything isn’t fine," I argue. You’re clearly not fine. You don’t have to pretend you are - Because I can tell you’re not. And, I’m not just here because I think I have to be. I’m not a hero. I’m here because I _want_ to be. I wanted to make sure you were okay." I huff, finished with my rant. "Oh - And, uh ... me and Agatha broke up. So you don’t have to worry about her waiting for me - She isn’t. Her and Penny are dancing together.”

He looks over at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. “What? Why? You two seemed perfectly fine when I left," he stumbles. 

“Uh … Well, she said that I was paying more attention to you than I was to her. Apparently I do that a lot. I said I was going to the bathroom and she knew I was only going because I saw you leave - So she dumped me,” I explain, awkwardly. He’s definitely going to laugh at me. I know it. Dumped because I’m obsessed with him - It's pretty bloody embarrassing. But, I’m not _actually_ obsessed with him - Only Agatha and Penny think that (Well, once Dev said I was too, but he was probably just trying to wind me up). But, to my surprise, he doesn’t.

“Oh,” he murmurs “Me. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not angry at you,” I say in rush. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone sincere.

“Yeah. Honest, I’m fine. I’ve known for a while she was probably going to break up with me again. And, I thought I loved her and everything - But, I don’t think I do. I mean I definitely don’t feel heartbroken, or whatever. More sort of … relieved? I don’t know. I’m not sad though. I didn’t even cry - Not because I didn’t let myself either, I just didn’t need to. So yeah, I’m fine. We’ve not really been a proper boyfriend and girlfriend for ages. She said she didn’t love me, and, well, I’m beginning to suspect I didn’t love her either. So, it’s all good. It’s probably better for the both of us. She didn’t seem upset either. I mean, she seemed happier dancing with Penny than she has with me the entire night, anyway. I’m good. And, just to be clear, it’s not your fault. Even if it was … I’m glad it’s over. Don’t tell anyone I said that though - I don’t want to accidentally upset Agatha, or something. I just … I guess she wasn’t my destiny, after all,” I ramble. I don’t really know why I told Baz everything in so much detail. I mean, I haven’t even told Penny yet (Although, Agatha probably has), so I don’t know why I told him. He’s staring at me, blankly. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like he’s trying to figure out what to say (he looks a little bit like a fish, it’s kind of funny). “Sorry. I just … You know - I sort of butted in on your private moment. And, I’ve been asking you to tell me personal stuff. So - You know, I thought I should at least do the same. I’m not a hypocrite, you know,” I explain.

“It’s okay, Snow. You don’t have to - I mean, it’s fine. Don’t apologise. I just - I’m just surprised”

“Oh,” I chuckle. “You looked like you were malfunctioning. I thought I’d finally broken you.”

He laughs back, cracking his first proper smile of the evening. I like seeing him smile. “Hush, you. I’ve seen you trying to do Magical Words homework, _that_ is what malfunctioning looks like,” he teases. 

We sit in silence for a moment, our soft breathing the only sound filling the stall. His is slower than mine. Then he speaks, his voice barely a whisper. “Look, Snow. I’ll tell you. Just - Just don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I promise. We can do that oath spell if you don’t believe me.”

“We don’t need the spell. I believe you,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I was upset because … Because, Watford didn't turn out to be all I had hoped it would be. I guess, I just feel disappointed. There are so many regrets, so many what-ifs - And, now it’s all over. No time left to fix anything, no time to make amends - I just have to accept things as they are. And, the Ball … it just made me feel worse. I was under the impression that the person I wanted to be with already had a date they were very happy with. And, Dev and Niall were busy with their dates. So I just felt a bit … Alone. It just overwhelmed me,” he says, nervously wringing his hands together in his lap. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. You still have a few hours at Watford, I’m sure you could fix _something_ if you wanted. But, I’m sorry it wasn’t what you had hoped. You came top of the year though, that’s great. You should be proud of that. And … Well, I don’t have a date. You could dance with me if you’d like. That way you won’t be alone.”

“Dance. With you. In front of everybody,” he scoffs.

“Yeah. Why not? Come on - It’ll be fun. Seven years together - I reckon I at least owe you a dance”

“Hmmm” he mumbles, clearly unconvinced. 

I jump up, holding my hand out to him. “Come on. It’ll be fun, trust me. You’ve trained me up to be a proper little dancer - I’d hate for all your hard work to go to waste.”

He snickers. “Hardly, Snow. Despite my best efforts, your footwork is truly appalling,” he teases, reaching up and sliding his hand into mine, allowing me to pull him up off of the floor.

Victory.

* * *

**Baz**

Simon Snow still can’t dance. He has stepped on my shoes at least twelve times, but I don’t even mind. I’m so far gone for him. We’re holding each other close, moving together slowly. People are staring (obviously, they all know us to be mortal enemies), but I can’t find it in myself to care. I’ve got far more important things on my mind. I’m holding him, and he’s holding me. He’s laced our fingers together tightly, our palms pressed firmly together - His hand is so warm in mine. He’s so close to me like this, and he’s beaming up at me. I’m the reason behind his smile - It’s exhilarating. He’s chatting away happily, telling me about some football tournament he set up with some lads on the beach last summer. It’s perfect. If I let myself, it’s easy to pretend that this is something more than it really is - That we’re something more than we really are. Snow was right - This _is_ fun.

* * *

Much to my dismay, the DJ seems to have resorted to playing exclusively upbeat, pop songs (meaning there is now no excuse to hold Snow). However, Snow has not stopped dancing - If you can class what he’s currently doing as dancing, that is. He’s madly hopping up and down on the spot, flailing his arms around like a lunatic. If Snow is bad at slow dancing, he is positively abysmal at regular dancing. I’m not complaining though, in spite of his terrible dance moves, he is a sight to behold. His curls are mad now, going in every sort of direction. And, his cheeks have flushed a frankly distracting pink, with the exertion of it all. He's stunning. 

“Do you want to go and get a drink? I think I might pass out if I don’t - I’m boiling!" he asks. 

“Sure,” I say, nodding my head. He smiles up at me, reaching out towards me, and intertwining our hands once more. He turns then, pulling me in the direction of the drinks table. He weaves us through the dense crowd, refusing to drop my hand until we reach our destination. We must’ve looked slightly strange, but I couldn’t care less. Everyone else is irrelevant right now. Snow held my hand, without the excuse of dancing together. He held it because he wanted to - Granted, most likely not for the reason I would like, but I’ll take what I can get. And _this_ \- This is more than I could have ever hoped for. 

We sit beside each other on the floor at the edge of the hall, while Snow finishes his drinks - He got three whole pint glasses of lemonade. Honestly, that boy is ridiculous. We don’t talk much (since he’s busy guzzling down his lemonade), but it’s nice. Every now and then, he’d look over and smile at me slightly - It made my heart melt. I’d gladly sit on this rock-hard floor all day if it meant that he’d smile at me like that.

“We should go and find Penny when I’m done,” he says, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. Even _that_ uncouth habit couldn't put me off of him now. “Just, I haven’t really spoken to her since we arrived. You okay with that? We can stay just you and me if you’d prefer.”

Of course, I’d rather stay just us two, but I can’t tell him that. I’m already walking on dangerous territory (I’ve allowed myself to take _far_ too many liberties this evening) - If I was _that_ honest, he would certainly suspect something was up. “Certainly, Snow. That's fine by me,” I mumble. 

* * *

When we reach Bunce, she’s got her eyebrows raised and a smug, knowing smile plastered across her face. _How irritating_. Snow grabbed my hand on the way over - And, she has definitely noticed. I drop his hand quickly, as if burnt. He pouts up at me, clearly confused. I understand why, I’ve let him hold my hand all evening - Everyone around us has already seen, but _Bunce_ seeing is entirely different. Bunce is aware of my _real_ feelings towards Snow. Doing that in front of her … It’s humiliating. Simon just shrugs at me, and jogs forwards, scooping Bunce up into a huge hug.

“Hey Pen, How has your night been? Where did Agatha go?” He asks. Oh. Right. Wellbelove. I had sort of forgotten about her.

“Pretty good, thanks. Aggie went to go and dance with Keris and Trixie. I don’t think she’ll come back,” she answers.

Thank God. I’m not sure whether I could tolerate an evening of Snow and Wellbelove sharing wistful gazes at one another. Although, Snow says he wasn't particularly bothered by their breakup, and I believe him (he never has been a good liar). So, perhaps it wouldn't have been like that at all. Still, her being here would’ve been a bit too awkward for my liking - Given that, technically, I’m the reason they broke up. Somehow, I doubt Wellbelove would’ve appreciated my presence there.

We all start dancing again then. Bunce really isn’t much better than Snow. It’s frankly embarrassing how rhythm-less the two of them are, but dancing with them is far superior to standing on the edge of the hall alone. Bunce slowly shimmies herself over so she is standing beside me, then. She taps on my side, and gestures for me to bring my head down so that she can whisper something in my ear. I oblige, reluctantly (Whatever Bunce has to say, I doubt it’s anything I want to hear).

“I see you listened to my advice, Basilton. What exactly did you tell him?,” she asks, her tone teasing.

 _Oh_ . She thinks I told him. Well, I suppose that _is_ understandable, given that Snow has been clinging onto my hands at every available opportunity - We must’ve looked like a couple. Just the thought of that makes me giddy. Me and Snow … A couple. I should be so lucky!

“No, Bunce, you’ve got it wrong. I haven’t told him anything. So please, Keep your trap _shut_ . Unless you’d rather me cast a **_Cat Got Your Tongue_ ** on you - That _can_ be arranged, if need be,” I threaten. 

She pulls away from me, an unamused frown adorning her face. “Calm down. I’ve told you already, your secret is safe with me. Sorry, I just assumed … with the hand holding,” she says, her voice trailing off towards the end. 

I grimace. Bunce talking about it makes me feel horrendously uncomfortable. I know she saw (obviously), but _talking_ about it - That’s different.

She sighs at me, then. “Seriously? Just - Just tell him. Tonight, Basilton. It’s your last chance, Please don’t waste it - You’ll regret it if you do. There is obviously _something_ going on between the two of you. I just want you both to figure it out.” 

I give her a curt nod, unsure of what to say. She rolls her eyes, clearly fed up with trying to convince me. I look over at Snow, he’s still blissfully flopping about the dance-floor, a bright grin spread across his face. He’s the brightest thing in the room. He’s _shining_. Frustratingly, Bunce is right - I know she is. I have to tell him . And, I will - Tonight. Maybe not until we get back to our room, though. That is not a conversation I want _anybody_ to overhear.

With my decision made, I straighten my back and walk back over to Snow, taking my place at his side. 

* * *

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Me and Snow danced together until the DJ announced that the night was officially over (Bunce had already left by that point). It had undoubtedly been the best night of my life so far. I felt alive - Really, truly, wholly alive. And it was all Snow’s doing.

Now, we’re sitting side-by-side on the steps of the White Chapel. It’s freezing out here, and I’m so close to him that I can feel his body trembling against mine. Every cell in my body is screaming for me to reach out and wrap my arms around him (not that I could really heat him up) - But, I dare not. I’m not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing here - Snow just sat himself down on the floor without any explanation, patting the floor beside him in an invitation for me to join. Of course, I didn’t protest. For whatever reason, Snow wanted to spend _more_ time with me - I certainly wasn’t going to turn him down. 

“Hey, Baz,” he says, turning to face me. “Were you planning on going to the after-party?” 

“Uh. No, Snow. To be perfectly honest with you, I wasn’t aware there was one,” I explain.

“Oh. Well, Keris is hosting one. Everybody is invited. And, she only lives like a fifteen minute walk away. And, I - Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? It’s not supposed to be starting until one thirty, so we have time to go and change and everything. But, we could go together? If you wanted.” He’s nervous, I can tell - He’s refusing to meet my eyes, staring intently down at his lap instead. 

“With you?” I ask, disbelieving. 

“Uh yeah. That’s what I meant. Un - Unless there is somebody else you’d rather go with?”

“No,” I say, far too quickly. My heart is pounding. I need to calm down. “No. There is nobody else. I want to go with you.”

“Wicked” he says, smiling at me, his dimple popping obscenely. Looking at him like this is like staring directly into the sun - It burns. He’s so beautiful it hurts. I dart my gaze down, suddenly sheepish. He’s everything I want. I love him - As absurd as it is, I really do. I love him more than anything. I have to tell him. And it has to be tonight. 

He reaches out and rests his hand on top of mine, and I feel my heart surge within my chest. “Come on then,” he whispers. “Let’s go and get ready.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Confessions of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is undoubtedly my favourite chapter of this fic, I had a blast writing it. Hopefully, you enjoy reading it :)

**Baz**

I’m sitting on my bed, my body slumped over, and my head resting in my hands. My stomach is churning horrendously, violent butterflies battering against my insides. I have to tell him - And, it has to be now. It’s my last chance. If I don’t do it now, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my miserable life. Bunce thinks I have a chance. And, after tonight, I’m starting to believe that maybe (just maybe), she is right. I don’t deserve it, of course - But, if there is even a glimmer of hope that Snow may feel the same way, I have to just take a leap of faith and confess. Even if he rejects me completely, even if he drives a bloody sword through my chest - I have to know if he feels the same. Yes or No. Leaving Watford with a maybe would be torturous. I need a definite answer. But, my mind is racing - A million thoughts swirling around hurriedly within my skull. How am I supposed to tell him? What do I _say?_ What do I _do_? What if I’ve completely misjudged the situation? What if Bunce was wrong? Is this too soon after Wellbelove? What will I do if he turns me down? What will I do if he _doesn't?_ What if it just makes him angry? What if I make him uncomfortable? What if he just laughs at me? Could I handle that? I suppose, if worst comes to worst, I could always just use an amnesia spell on him. Of course, he’d remember eventually - But, hopefully I’d be far, far away from him by that point. Much to my dismay, I doubt we’ll keep in contact after tomorrow - After the way I’ve treated him, he’s probably counting down the hours till he’s finally free of me.

That’s undoubtedly my biggest regret about my time at Watford - The way I treated Snow. Deciding that being an utter prat to him was the best way to deal with my feelings towards him, was a dreadful idea. I mean it worked to an extent - I highly doubt he has even the slightest suspicion of my _true_ feelings towards him. I don’t think that pushing somebody down the stairs really screams “I’m hopelessly in love with you". But, it hurt me - And, I know it hurt him, too. Sometimes, when we’d fight, I’d take it too far - I’d see a look of genuine hurt flash across his face, and it would kill me inside. Looking at him like that - It felt as though my heart was being shred into a thousand, unmendable pieces. Sometimes, I felt as though I deserved it - The pain. It was my penance. Penance for all that I am - Penance for all I _still_ feel. But he didn’t deserve it - I never thought he deserved it. Of course, I’ve toned it down dramatically since Fifth Year - But I still haven’t been exactly pleasant to him. Always winding him up. Always beating him down. Always insulting him. Every cruel word tasted like bitter ash in my mouth, every cell in my body desperately pleading with me to take them all back. But, I never did. I couldn't. I didn’t mean a word of it, it was all just a facade. But of course, Snow doesn’t know that - He has every reason to despise me. And, yet … Tonight, it didn’t feel like hatred. Far from it, actually. It felt like, maybe, in spite of it all we could be something more. Something good. Something true. No more pretending. No more fighting. We could finally be happy. 

Snow crashes into our dresser with a dramatic clatter. I snap my head up, looking over at him. He’s hopping on the spot, trying to shove his left foot into his trainer. He looks like a complete, and utter disaster - But, it's painfully endearing. He's changed into a tight-fitting pair of jeans, and a loose salmon-pink T-Shirt - And, his damp curls are sat atop his head in their usual, unkempt tangle. He is positively divine. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, finally slipping his foot into his shoe. 

“Not exactly," I say, hesitantly. 

“Oh. What else do you need to do? … Your shirt looks fine - I promise. So did the first one. You really don’t need to change again, Baz. Come on, we’ll be late otherwise”

“No. I - Um, it’s not that,” I murmur. “I just - It’s just - I have to tell you something before we leave. It’s important. Please, just wait.” Merlin and Morgana, I’m petrified. Pathetically, my voice has already started trembling - And, Snow has clearly noticed. He’s frowning at me, a deep furrow between his brows. This is categorically mortifying. But, I have to do it. It's now or never. 

“Oh. Okay. Sure. Uh - What is it?” he says, his voice laced with confusion. 

“I-” Crowley. I have no idea what to say. He’s staring right at me. I drop my head down, my eyes planting themselves firmly on the floor - I just can't bare to look at him right now. “It’s just that I - I have to tell you ... Because we’re leaving tomorrow. So, I - I just have to tell you. But it has to be now.” 

“Okay, Baz. You can tell me - I’m listening. Promise,” he coos, reassuringly. 

I can’t do this. I can’t find the words. But, I’ve started now - I can’t just pretend it was nothing important. I’ve got to do it. I have to tell him. “Okay,” I breathe. “Simon, I - I. It’s about you.” I pause, unsure of what to say. I’ve imagined this a million times in my head, a million different ways to tell him how I feel - Yet, now, when I need them the most … All my words seem to have escaped me. My hands are shaking violently against my thighs. I grip my knees to try and quell their vibrations, but it hardly makes a difference. 

“Um - Okay? What about me?” he asks, uncertainly. 

Christ. What is wrong with me? I’m definitely freaking him out. I just - I just can’t do this. I look up, meeting his gaze once more - And then, I’m lost. A thick, impenetrable knot forms in my throat, suffocating my words. He’s rubbing his forearm anxiously, his face still twisted into a frown. I feel my eyes well up, and dart my head back down towards the floor. I'm not going to cry - I'm not really upset, I'm just ... Overwhelmed. I'm anxious. I'm embarrassed. But, most of all, I'm frustrated - Frustrated with myself. _Why am I such a coward? Why can't I just say it?_ Of course, Snow notices. He squats down onto the floor in front of me - Reaching forwards and pressing his hand against mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“Baz,” he croons. “Baz. Look at me, please.” I don’t. It doesn’t matter though, because he reaches out with his other hand and bumps the bottom of my chin upwards. He doesn’t do it forcefully, I could've easily kept my head down if I wanted to - But, I'm a sucker for Snow, so I oblige. He smiles at me weakly, then. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is you have to say about me, you don’t need to be upset about it. I won’t be mad or anything? I just want to know what’s wrong. I don’t understand," he says, sounding as frantic as I feel. 

Frustrated with myself, I reach over to my bedside table and pick up my wand. Snow leans back on his ankles, pulling his hands away, and tilting his head in confusion. I have to do this. It’s the only way. I’m not brave enough - I just can’t do this of my own accord. I close my eyes and rest the tip of the wand against the inside of my wrist, coughing out a quick **_“Best kept secret”_** spell. It works instantly - My mind clouding over suddenly, and the knot in my throat melting away. There is no turning back now. A million words, lost to me moments ago, come bubbling back up my throat. 

“Simon, I’m in love with you,” I rush, the words spilling out of me now. I'm completely powerless to stop them - And, it's terrifying. “I have been for a very, very long time now. I’ve tried to make it go away - Honestly, I have. I tried everything I could think of, but it never worked. All those horrible things I’ve said and done over the years, I didn’t mean any of them. I _admire_ you. I always have. If you could look into my mind, you’d see that I think of you like you hung the bloody moon. I adore everything about you - You enrapture me. And, tonight - Well, tonight has been the best night of my life. Spending it with you, it’s the best send-off I could have ever asked for. It was you that I wanted to go with in the first place, anyway. And, I've wanted to tell you all of this for a while now, but I could never pluck up the courage. Last week, I thought I finally might ... But, I chickened out again. I just - The truth is that, I love you so much Simon Snow … More than I thought possible. I love you so much, sometimes ... I think it will kill me. I can’t bear the thought that, after tomorrow, we may never see each-other again. I’d give anything to spend more time with you, even if we just stayed as what we are right now. I just - I just had to tell you. You _have_ to know how I _really_ feel.”

With that, the magic that was coursing through my veins, cools and fizzles out - Freeing my mind and mouth. Released from the spell, the reality of what I've just done dawns on me - Christ, I said it. I _actually_ said it. After all these years - I’ve finally done it. I snap my eyes open, desperate to see Snow's reaction. He’s staring at me, wide-eyed, his jaw hanging open foolishly. God … _What have I done?_ I’ve fucked up massively, I know it. How could I be so foolish? I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew it would end like this. If he didn’t hate me already, he certainly will now. Crowley, I’m an idiot. 

**Simon**

_What?_ What on earth is happening, right now? That is definitely not what I thought he was going to say. I mean, I'm not sure what exactly I thought he _would_ say, to be honest - But I _never_ would have guessed _that_ . Baz said … Baz said he _loves_ me. He used that secret spell, too … So, he couldn’t have been lying. And, I mean, he seemed so afraid to tell me - _He_ _must 've_ _meant it._ Baz _loves_ me. Baz has been _in love with me_ for _ages._ I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped. I don’t know what to think. I’m not angry. And, I mean … I’m not put off by the idea. If anything, I think I feel … Glad? _Fuck._ What is happening? I’m staring at him, I know. I should probably say something, but - What am I supposed to say to _that?_ Baz _loves_ me. He _loves_ me. I’m so overwhelmed. After what feels like an eternity of sitting there, silently staring at him, I manage to talk (Just about). “I - You. You - You what?” I bumble. 

**Baz**

Crowley, I've ruined everything. I should've just enjoyed my last few hours with him, rather than dropping a bomb like that on him. But no. I had to go and tell him. I don't understand how I ever allowed myself to become so _deluded_ that I _genuinely_ believed that confessing to him was a good idea - Because, going by his reaction, it is likely the worst idea I've ever had. I wish the ground would swallow me up - I don't think I can handle this. I can't handle him turning me down. I'm not strong enough. It will destroy me. Yet, there is no escape now. I swallow, readying myself for his rejection. But, to my surprise, it never comes. Instead, he picks himself up off of the floor, and sits himself down beside me on the bed. 

“Since when? he asks, quietly. 

“Snow, it’s fine .. You don’t have to. We can just pretend I never said anything. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry.”

He juts his chin forwards, stubbornly. “No. I - I want to know," he insists. 

"Okay," I say, unsure. “I - I’m not certain, exactly. I figured it out for sure in Fifth Year, but - I think I’ve felt it pretty much always. Uh, I mean in First Year, I felt … something. I just didn’t fully understand what it was at first - I thought it was some adolescent infatuation. I was certain that it would die down eventually … But, it didn’t. I just kept falling, deeper and deeper. In Fifth Year, I - I just accepted the truth. I couldn't lie to myself, anymore,” I murmur, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He wrings his hands together in his lap, squinting his eyes at me like he was trying to figure something out. “Is - Is that why you’ve been a bit … You know, recently?”

I sigh, Simon never has been the best with verbalisation. “No, Snow. I don’t know. Just - Just, use your words.”

“You know … Softer,” he says, hesitating on the last word. 

Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. The next time I feel myself getting too cocky, I’ll remind myself of this moment - That’ll be sure to knock me down several thousand pegs. “Yes, I suppose. It’s more than that though. I’ve always wanted to be ... 'softer' with you - I just couldn’t risk it. But, with the end of the year approaching, I figured it was safe enough to just drop the facade. I’ve denied myself the pleasure of being pleasant to you all these years, I figured I may as well indulge myself a little. With so little time left in the year, I figured nobody (including you) would figure the truth out in time - And then, well, then we’d never see each-other again. Secret Safe.” 

“Oh,” he says, nodding his head slightly. 

* * *

We sit in silence for what feels like hours, although logically, I know it’s only been a couple of minutes. He’s thinking - His face scrunched up in concentration, and his hands tugging at his curls mercilessly. I’m a nervous wreck - My stomach churning uncomfortably, my arms and legs still shaking anxiously. The silence is unbearable, my confession hanging heavily in the air between us. Waiting for him to speak is excruciating - I'd rather he just get it over with and stab me. He probably wants to. 

“I - Just forget I said anything, please. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you. I should’ve just kept it to myself. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I mean - I mean, I know you don’t … Uh, reciprocate. And, it’s fine,” I ramble. “I mean, you can just pretend I didn’t say anything. I know you don’t -” 

“I never said I don’t,” he interjects. _What? He? What?_ Surely, he realises what that implies? This cannot be happening. Surely not? I think my heart is going to give in, it's thundering within my chest worryingly fast. I look over at him, desperately scanning every inch of his face. He’s blushing ferociously, his tawny skin flushed a deep pink - It's adorable. 

“I- You?” I stumble, my voice wavering slightly.

He shrugs. The bloody nightmare just shrugs at me. Unbelievable. I stare at him, unsure how to respond. He’s refusing to look at me, picking at his nails aggressively. He's clearly anxious. But, is he trying to say what I think he is? Does he reciprocate, or what? I don't want to get ahead of myself, but surely a 'No' is easy enough to say. Surely, he wouldn't be this anxious reject me. I wait with bated breath for him to elaborate, cautious of pushing him too far. 

“I think so,” he mumbles. “I- I don’t know since when, though. I just - I think I do. I mean, I’m pretty sure I do. I’m not the best at … Understanding what I feel. But, you know, I think I do, too.” Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. It’s hardly the way I imagined Snow telling me he feels the same way when I was younger - There is no long, heartfelt speech (Although, knowing Snow as I do, I'm not sure why I ever imagined I'd get such eloquence from him). But, I don't care in the slightest ... It's perfect. It’s infinitely better than anything I could’ve imagined, because it was _real_. Because it was him. It wasn't just some deluded, hormone-fuelled fantasy - It was my actual, real life. My heart swells, drowning in the warmth of his confession. It's pure euphoria. I’m gawping at him absurdly. He must think that I look completely ridiculous, but I seem to have lost all control of myself. Simon Snow _likes_ me. Simon Snow thinks he might _love_ me. Given that revelation, I can hardly be expected to carry on functioning as normal. I mean, he’s not definite, but that hardly matters. A possibly is immeasurably better than the 'No' I was expecting. And, then, it gets even better ... 

“Can - Can I kiss you?,” he asks, scrunching his mouth to the side awkwardly. 

“Simon, you don’t have to. Just because I said - I mean you don’t have to. Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” he says, determinedly, reaching out and pressing a hand to the top of my thigh. His touch is feather-light, but it sets me on fire. I turn my body to face him fully, our eyes meeting once more. His pupils are blown wide, barely a slither of blue remaining. A shy half-smile has spread across his face, and his cheeks are impossibly red now. “Only if you want to,” he whispers, barely audible against the thrum of our pulses in my ear. 

It feels slightly awkward - Having to admit to him what I want. A part of me wishes he'd just lean forwards and do it, there is really no need to ask. Of course I want to - I have for years. But, he _wants_ to kiss me ... Having to embarrass myself a little more to get it is hardly going to put me off. “I want to,” I breathe. “I’ve always wanted to.” 

He exhales loudly, flashing me a shy smile, shifting towards me on the bed. He reaches up, pressing a palm to the side of my cheek, his fingertips weaving themselves into my hair. He pulls my head towards him, gently - And then, he _finally_ kisses me, softly pressing his lips against mine. They’re slightly chapped, but they’re so warm against mine - It’s intoxicating. My mind fuzzes over, my thoughts entirely consumed by him. He’s sliding his lips against mine expertly, jutting his chin out in a way that makes me melt. He moves his free hand to grip my waist, the other tugging on my hair lightly. I follow his lead, threading both of my hands into the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re so soft - Softer than I’d imagined. Given that he insists on using that god-awful school-issued 'shampoo', I half-expected it to feel like straw. How wrong I was. I tug gently - A small, appreciative hum rising from the back of his throat in response. It drives me positively wild. Instinctively, I reach down, sliding my hands around his waist. Gently, I tug his body towards me, moving him so that he is straddling my lap. I pull my mouth away from his, momentarily. “Is this - Is this okay? I don’t mind if you want to stop,” I breathe. 

He giggles quietly, shaking his head. “Yes,” he asserts, shifting in my lap, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. He bumps our noses together in the process, nuzzling his against mine shyly. “It’s good. So, so good. Definitely don’t stop.”

A wide smile breaks across my face, my cheeks aching with the force of it. He mirrors me, beaming up at me, his dimple popping proudly. A wicked glint flashes across his eyes - And then, suddenly, he’s surging forwards. He tackles me, pushing me down so that I'm lying flat against the bed. He shifts himself up my body, pressing his hands flat against the mattress either side of my head, holding himself above me properly, now. I wrap a hand around his wrist, squeezing it tightly, desperately wanting to hold onto him. 

“I love you,” I say, rubbing a finger along the inside of his wrist, soothingly. I don’t need the spell to say it this time - It’s all me. _I can finally just say it_ . He _finally_ knows. Gone, is the weight I’ve been carrying for the last eight years - I’m _finally_ free. I don’t have to hide it away anymore, I can love him out loud. He’s finally mine. Mine to hold. Mine to kiss. Mine to love. And, I’m _elated._ Of course, I know he won’t say it back (it’s _much_ too soon for that) … But, I don’t care. He’s here, with me - Gazing down at me, a rogue curl flopping down over his eye, and a handsome grin adorning his face. And I know, I wouldn’t give this up for anything. Because Simon Snow is looking at me like I’m _something,_ like I’m _everything_ , and _nothing_ could mean more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR CLARIFICATION - In this chapter, I have Baz use a "Best Kept Secret" spell, which I made up. The idea of the spell is that it forces the individual it is used against to confess their biggest secret. Hopefully, the effect of the spell is fairly obvious, but I just thought I'd explain just in case anybody was a bit lost.  
> I'm so glad Baz finally confessed. After dragging it out for so long, I hope I did it justice, and that you feel like this chapter was worth the wait.  
> As always, Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	7. At the End of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made it to the final chapter :) Thank you for all the support. I hope everyone enjoys the ending.

**Simon**

I break our lips apart, leaning back on my knees. I glance down, revelling in the sight of him sprawled out under me. He looks wrecked - His long hair fanned out over the pillow, gazing up at me hazily. His usually colourless lips have a faint, rosy tinge to them, flushed with the force of our kissing (I suspect mine are in a similar state). It’s like, somehow, I’ve kissed life into him - My lips waking his body up. It's exhilarating. Looking at him like this, it’s like I’m really _seeing_ him for the first time. No more impenetrable walls stand between us, blocking my view - I can finally just see _him_ . And, I can see all of him - Not just the carefully constructed version of himself he usually lets me see. I love it. I love him like this. He's exactly where I want him. He looks … Smaller, somehow. Vulnerable. Open. Not a monster. Not a villain. Just … A boy. Oh shit - A boy. Well, I guess this means I’m Gay, then? Or? Well, I thought I liked Agatha. But that never felt like _this_ \- Although, it did feel like _something_. I mean, _I asked her_ out. I wouldn’t do that if I was Gay … Would I? Fuck, maybe I’m Bi then. I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’m at least _something_ not Straight. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I mean, I definitely like this. And, I guess that's all I really need to know right now. I’ll figure the rest out later.

“You okay there, Snow? You look like you're thinking. I don’t want you to strain yourself,” Baz teases, smirking up at me.

"Hilarious," I deadpan, leaning my head down, and crashing my lips against his once more - Drawing a delightful, surprised hum from Baz. 

Reluctantly, I pull away from him again. As if entranced- Baz pushes himself upwards, trailing after my lips with his, in a desperate attempt to recapture them. It’s adorable, and I’m powerless to stop the small giggle that escapes me. He steels himself self-consciously, flashing me an unimpressed scowl, as his cheeks flush a ferocious shade of red. I grin, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. 

“Come on, Baz,” I mumble, moving to look at him once again. “I wasn’t laughing _at_ you. I just thought it was cute.” 

“Gross, Snow,” he says, his tone teasing. “If I knew you were such a sap, I never would have let you kiss me.”

“Yeah, right. You so would’ve ... And, if anyone is a sap, it’s definitely you,” I challenge, poking a finger to the centre of his chest. 

He raises an eyebrow at me, a warning look spread across his face. 

“Alright, alright," I relent. "No more teasing. I was just going to say that, as much as I’m enjoying this, we really should get a move on. The party started nearly an hour ago.”

“Oh right. Of course. I’d sort of … Forgotten about that. Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“It’s okay. It wasn’t exactly my main focus, either. It’s just … You know. It’s probably our last chance to see everyone. And, I wanna give Watford a proper goodbye - This place was pretty much all I had for the longest time. I always hated Summer, because it meant I couldn’t be here. It - It means a lot to me, you know? This is the first, and only, place I could ever really call home - This stuffy old room, with my insufferable roommate," I say, scrunching a hand into his hair and tugging on it lightly. I don’t want to miss out on anything I have left. I know that Watford isn’t exactly ... the same for you - So, if you don’t feel up to it, you can stay. No worries. But, I think I'd still like to go.” 

He huffs out a laugh, then. “Missing out on a chance to see the Chosen One drunk - I don't think so," he says, shuffling out of bed, and reaching a hand down to me in offering. "Come on, Snow. Let's go and give you the proper send-off you deserve." 

* * *

**Baz**

Snow has gone unusually quiet, walking in silence besides me. He's clasping my hand tightly, swinging our arms together between us. He's trying to hide it, but I can tell something is wrong. He's scuffing his shoes along the pavement with every step he takes, as if he's trying to delay our arrival as much as possible, without stopping outright. 

“What’s wrong, Snow?" I ask. "You’re acting even more peculiar than usual. I thought that you _wanted_ to go to the party?” 

"I do want to," he whines, pouting slightly. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

“No. It’s something. Spill,” I insist.

“I just - I’m just not sure.”

“About what?” I ask. 

“Us.”

My heart skips a beat and my stomach lurches uncomfortably - His confession knocking the wind right out of me. I stop dead in my tracks. _Of course_. I should’ve known that all of this was too good to be true. “ _Oh_ ," I mumble, dejected. "Well, I can just go back to Mummers, then."

“What? Why?" He asks, furrowing his brow, and turning to face me. I don't answer, a thick knot blocking my throat. His eyes widen then, realisation clearly hitting him. "Oh god! No. No. No. Baz. You’ve got the wrong idea. I didn’t mean _that_ ,” he says, grabbing hold of my arms, his eyes wild with panic. “I didn’t mean that. I - I just meant that at the party, I’m not sure - Well, I’m not sure I want to like kiss and stuff. Because, you know, lots of people kiss at parties, but … I’m not sure I want to. Well, no. I mean, I _want_ to kiss you. I just maybe don’t want to do it in front of everybody. I’m not sure I’m ready for that … Not yet, anyway. I- I mean, Is that okay?” 

I find myself smiling, all of my stress melting away in an instant. That stupid, charming, bumbling _moron_. “Snow. I’ve managed to restrain myself perfectly well for the last eight years. I’m certain I can handle a few hours more,” I deadpan. “I understand. So, don’t worry about it. We won’t do anything you don’t want. So, you've got it - No kissing. Sounds easy enough to me,” I say, softening my voice slightly. That’s a definite lie - Refraining from kissing Snow is no easy feat. It was challenging enough as it was, but now that I’m allowed to ... Now that I know he wants me to - Trying to control _that_ impulse has taken on a _whole_ new level of difficulty. But I'm sure I'll manage - I've always prided myself on my level of self control. I understand, of course. I imagine all of _this_ has been a bit of a shock to the system for him. I mean, he didn’t even realise how he felt himself until a couple of hours ago, and we certainly haven’t held ourselves back. It took me _years_ to come out after I had realised I was Gay - So, I was hardly expecting Snow to out himself to the entire year within hours of realising he was ... Well, whatever he is. 

“Okay,” he breathes, clearly relieved. “Thanks, Baz.”

"You don't need to thank me, Snow. It's no trouble," I explain.

He smiles up at me then, dropping his arms back down and taking a hold of my hands again. Rolling forwards onto his tip-toes, he pushes himself upwards, placing a chaste peck to my lips. "Softy," he teases, turning and darting off down the street. The cheeky bastard.

I chase after him, catching up with him easily (Vampirism does have a few perks, after all). I push him up against the nearest lamppost, holding him by the collar of his T-shirt. “Take it back,” I threaten. 

“Or what?” he teases, a devilish grin spread across his face. I raise an eyebrow, unsure of where he intends for this to go. “Okay. Okay,” he concedes. “Fine. I take it back.”

I smirk, pleased with myself. “Come along then, Snow,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him forwards. “That’s quite enough messing about, you absolute nightmare. I _thought_ you said you didn’t want to be late.” 

* * *

Everything about this is incredibly overwhelming. The room is dark, lit only by a set of gaudy lights, that are flashing in my eyes aggressively. Droves of people surround me, dancing and singing loudly. And, obnoxiously loud music is booming out of the speakers - The bassline hammering within my chest like a second heartbeat. And then, there's Simon. We’d spent the majority of the night moving person to person, chatting and joking around with them all (apparently Snow is friends with everyone). He’d even gone so far as to drag me into playing a game of 'Truth or Dare' with him, Trixie, Keris, and some guy I vaguely recognised from Elocution. But now, he’s spinning around me, dancing like a mad man, his curls wild, and beaming with joy. He’s _definitely_ a little tipsy - Having insisted that we both down three Double Rum and Cokes (Which tasted absolutely appalling). He’s moving his hands all over me, seemingly incapable of letting me go for even a second. Charmingly, he can’t quite seem to decide where he wants to place them - Pulling me close by my waist one moment, and twirling me around the room, his hands clinging onto my shoulders, the next. It’s chaotic, but _so_ exhilarating. He’s so alive, he’s overfilling with it - Energy pouring out of him in waves. And, it’s as though it’s seeping into me, lighting me up from within, so that I can feel it too. _Alive_. So, so alive. _Finally_. 

I will admit, I’m a bit out of the depth. I’ve been to parties before, of course, but _never_ one like this. There is no Champagne or calming piano here, just cheap beer and toneless house music. Although mercifully, Snow (who appears to be in his element), is leading me through it. He’s laced our hands together now (so that we move as one), and is throwing us around the dance-floor in wild, uncoordinated circles. 

“Yeah”

“Come with me, yeah?” he says, tugging on my hand and turning away from me. 

Slightly dazed, I follow behind him, letting him drag me out of the room and up the stairs. “Snow, where on earth are you taking me?”

“Shhh. Wanna take you somewhere,” he mumbles, distracted, opening a random door and peering in. Apparently unsatisfied, he turns us away, leading me further down the corridor. He pulls another door open, whispering out a quiet “Perfect”, as he drags us inside. 

He’s taken us into small, dimly lit storage cupboard - And, to be perfectly frank, I’m struggling to understand exactly _what_ about it is 'Perfect'. But, before I have the opportunity to ask, he's shoving me back against the wall roughly. For a brief moment, I think he’s going to try to fight me, but then his hands are knotting themselves into my hair, and his lips are smashing against mine. He’s kissing me hungrily, putting all his force behind it. It’s all teeth and tongue, but I find it alarmingly hot (Because I’m disturbed, ask anyone). It may be more than a little clumsy, his chin constantly bumping against mine, but I don’t care. Because, Simon Snow is kissing me like his life depends on it - Relentless and desperate. And, it’s intoxicating. He pulls back slightly, gasping in a breath, and dropping his hands down to my waist. I chuckle quietly at the absurdity of it all - I never would've guessed that _this_ is how my day would turn out when I woke up this morning (Not that I'm complaining, obviously. This is far better than anything I had envisioned). 

“Snogging in a cupboard, Snow. Really?” I taunt. “And they say romance is dead.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes at me. “God. Just shut it, you insufferable prat. You didn’t seem to care about that a minute ago - You seemed enthusiastic enough, to me.”

“Hmmm,” I hum, rubbing a thumb against his bottom lip absentmindedly. “I thought you said there would be no kissing”

He flushes an adorable shade of pink. “Oh yeah. Sorry,” he mumbles, shifting his body awkwardly.

“Don’t apologise," I protest. "As you said - I was enthusiastic enough. I was just wondering.”

“Well, nobody can see us here … So, it’s different," he murmurs. "We can kiss when nobody can see. I just … Couldn’t wait any longer.”

My heart floods with warmth, an in-suppressible grin spreading across my face. “Christ, Snow,” I laugh. “You really are impossible. I managed to restrain myself for _years_ , and you couldn’t even manage a few _hours_.”

“It’s not _my_ fault,” he whines.

I shake my head, helplessly charmed. "You ... Are a complete dolt," I mumble, leaning forwards so that are lips are barely millimetres apart. He smiles against me, the corners of his eyes crinkling up sweetly. And, I close the gap between us - Pressing our lips together once more. We move languidly - Our action unhurried. The kiss is softer than before, but no less impactful - My mind still fogging over helplessly, his lips entirely consuming my thoughts, as my body responds to his touch eagerly. I lift my hands up, caressing his cheekbones slowly - Entirely enraptured by him. 

We stay in the privacy of the cupboard, completely lost in one another, for at least another fifteen minutes - Before Snow pulls himself away from me again (Much to my dissatisfaction). 

“Did you maybe want to get out of here?" He asks, running a hand through my hair. "We’ve been here for like three hours now, I think it’s time to go home, yeah?"

“Sure, Snow. I'm happy to go whenever. Are you sure you're ready to leave, though? Everyone else will probably be hanging around for at least another half-hour.”

“Yep … I’m bored of sharing you with everybody else,” he says, nonchalantly - As if he hasn’t just set my heart off pounding again. 

“Okay,” I whisper, pressing the palms of our interlocked hands together. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

**Simon**

I’m no longer tipsy (the light buzz off alcohol having worn off about an hour ago), but somehow, I still _feel_ slightly drunk. Well, not drunk, exactly (I mean I don’t feel dizzy, or out of control, or anything like that) - I guess I just feel a bit … High. Not on drugs, _obviously_. Just, high on … Well, life. High on the perfect night. High on the party atmosphere. High on Baz. I feel like I’m floating - My mind buzzing with elation. Everything just feels so ... _Surreal_. We’re walking down the high street, hand-in-hand. I’m belting out the lyrics to some random Taylor Swift song, and Baz is laughing at me (really, properly laughing) - The sound filling my ears, and flooding my body with Serotonin. It's all so _new_ \- It's no wonder I can hardly believe that it's real. But it is - I _know_ that it is (There is no way my mind could ever come up with something so wonderful). 

I turn to face him. He’s grinning over at me, soft creases visible besides his mouth where his smile has pushed his cheeks upwards. The street lights are shining down on him perfectly, illuminating all the high-points of his face. He looks perfect like this - All happy and carefree. His smile has always been prettier than his scowl (Although, I hardly ever got to see it before today). Suddenly overcome, I stop - My heart urging me to get closer to him, somehow. Without thinking, I grab ahold of his shoulders, hoisting myself up onto his back in a quick, clumsy motion. Caught off guard, he stumbles slightly, his hands gripping onto my thighs tightly in an attempt to support me. 

“Crowley, Snow! He yelps. “You could’ve given me some warning before just launching yourself onto me." 

I can tell he’s not really mad - The slight, upwards curl of his lips betraying his stern tone. “Oh hush, you,” I tease. “You have your vampire super-strength thingy. Don’t try and pretend like you can’t carry me easily.”

He goes quiet then, shifting his grip on my leg slightly. Shit - I didn’t mean to bring _that_ up.

“Hey, Baz, " I coo, trying to comfort him. "I know you're - You know, what you are. You don’t have to lie about it anymore. I know ... And, I don’t care. Okay?”. 

“You should care,” he says, his voice small.

I shrug, resting my chin against his shoulder. “Maybe. But I don’t. So don’t … Freak out. It’s fine. Honest. I like you just as you are.”

He huffs out a shaky breath. “I’d never … Never a person,” he mumbles. He doesn't elaborate any further, but I know what he means. I press a gentle kiss to the column of his throat, hoping to reassure him. 

“I know. I know you’d never do that ... You’re good, Baz. I know it,” I say earnestly. "I know you wouldn't - I've never thought that you would."

* * *

We walked in silence after that. I was beginning to panic, actually - Convinced that I'd managed to ruin everything, accidentally pushing Baz into retreating behind his walls once again. But, just as the sun began to rise, I felt it - His fingers slowly running along my thigh, smoothing along the fabric of my jeans soothingly. It was hesitant, his touch barely-there, but it meant _everything_ to me - Because, I knew what it meant. He was still there with me - Standing open, his walls little more than rubble at his feet. We were still alright. And, he was still mine. 

* * *

**Baz**

Snow walks out of the bathroom, his hands balled into fists at his sides as if he was preparing for a fight. I drop my book onto my beside cabinet, flashing him a nervous smile. He paces across the room, stopping besides my bed, and standing over me awkwardly. 

“Can I?" He asks, hovering his hand above the corner of my duvet. "I don’t have to sleep in it with you ... Not if you don’t want me to. I just want to - You know, for a bit,” 

I nod my head, granting him permission. “You can. If you want. I mean - You can sleep here too, if you want,” I explain, my voice barely a whisper.

He grins, clambering into my bed - Swinging a leg over my body, and accidentally kneeing the side of my stomach painfully. “Snow, you absolute clutz,” I complain. “What _are_ you doing?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to lay on the right side,” he huffs.

I chuckle lightly, leaning over to pick up my wand, as he settles besides me in the bed. Shoving the bedside cabinet over slightly, I cast a quick **_“Room for Two”_ ** spell. A moment later, the bed shakes, before doubling in size with a sudden jolt. I’ve lived with Snow long enough to know that he prefers sleeping in a ridiculous, outstretched starfish position - So, if he intends to stay here all night, the spell is _definitely_ necessary. I refuse to be woken up by getting shoved out of my _own_ bed. 

“Wicked,” he breathes. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Hmmm. We’ll add that to the long, long list of things you don’t know then, Snow,” I tease, stretching over to lay my wand back down. 

He punches my arm jokingly in retaliation - Grumbling out a quiet "You’re such a prick."

“I know,” I say, flashing him a wicked grin, as I settle back down into bed. We’re facing each other now, barely six inches apart. Our eyes meet, and I’m suddenly nervous, my face filling with heat. Smiling softly, he reaches out, wrapping an arm around my waist. 

“You okay?” He whispers. 

I nod, not trusting my voice. 

“Good,” he says, shifting closer to me - Bumping our foreheads together lightly. “Me too.”

We lay in silence for a while. And as always, I find myself focusing on him. His breathing is slow and steady, air softly puffing against my face with his every exhalation. But, his pulse is rapid, his heart hammering erratically within his chest.

“Did you get the send-off you wanted then, Snow?” I ask, keeping my voice hushed, careful not to startle him.

“Hmmm,” he hums, his eyes fluttering open. “It was perfect”

“Good” I say, sweeping my fingers along his side gently.

He shifts himself then, swinging a leg over mine, and pulling our bodies closer together - Enveloping me in his heat. He snuggles his face against my neck, his bronze curls tickling my chin slightly. 

“Baz?’ He mumbles. “Are we … I mean are we like _together_ now? 

My body tenses, suddenly apprehensive. “Well, it depends. Is that something that you would want?” I ask, hesitantly. He shrugs, squeezing his eyes closed. Unsure, I continue. “If it helps … That’s definitely something that I would want. I’ve wanted that for a long time, actually. So, it’s really up to you, Snow. I know my answer.” I pause, taking in a deep breath, and gazing down at him. “There’s no pressure, though. I mean … You don’t have to decide what you want right away. If you need more time, I’d understand.”

He opens his eyes then, a shy smile flickering across his face. Leaning forwards slightly, he pulls me into a deep kiss, his free hand smoothing across my chest as our lips move together. After a moment, we break apart - My lips still flooded with warmth from the contact. “I think I want that too,” he breathes, squeezing my waist gently. “I mean ... This is _definitely_ better than fighting.” 

My heart swells, an all too unfamiliar wave of joy washing over me. Simon _really_ wants this. He really wants _me_. Alesteir Crowley, I can hardly believe that this is real life. The way we were - There wasn’t a day where I believed that we’d both live through it. And yet, here we are - Talking about a _future_. Talking about a future _together,_ no less. Unbelievable. 

“But … What about tomorrow?”

“What about it?” I ask, confused. 

‘Well, we’re leaving. I mean … Will we still see each other?”

“Well I should bloody well hope so, Snow,” I scoff. “It was my understanding, that being together usually involves at least _some_ level of physical interaction."

“Oh right, yeah. Obviously. But - I mean … Aren’t you going to London?”

“Well, yeah. But, I’m not leaving until September - We have the whole Summer before then." I explain. "Do you know where you’ll be this Summer? I know they ... Move you around quite a lot.”

He scrunches his face up awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. “No," he mumbles. "But, The Mage wants me to stay with him. So ... I may just be here. It was nice of him to offer - I mean, he even said that I could have a room in his private apartments. But … I’m not really sure I want to." 

I brush a rogue curl off of his face, smoothing a hand through his hair. “So, what is it that you _do_ want, Snow?”

“Well ... Penny said that I could spend Summer at her house. I think - I think that I’d like that.”

“Then go for it. The Mage isn’t in control of your life, Simon. _You are_. Go and stay with Bunce, I’m sure she’d be overjoyed to have you,” I reassure. He flashes me a soft smile, shifting forwards and pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “And, about _us_ ,” I continue. “You could always just catch a train down to Hampshire - Or, I could come to you, obviously. I could pay for all your tickets and everything, if need be - It’s really no hassle. I'd love for you to visit. And ... Thinking beyond Summer, there are always trains going into London. So, if you wanted us to be together, I see no real reason why it should matter that we’d no longer be living here. We could still make it work." I cringe slightly - Aware of how desperate I must sound. But, in my defence, I've pined after Simon Snow for eight years now - I couldn't bear losing him to something as surmountable as physical distance _now_. Not after tonight. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then … Yes.”

“Yes, what?” I ask, hope bubbling up within my chest.

“Yes to being together, you numpty,” he says, beaming up at me brightly. I mirror him, a wide grin cracking across my face. I chuckle, bumping our noses together, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“So that’s it then? We’re like _proper_ boyfriends now,” he says, disbelieving. 

“Boyfriends,” I echo, the reverence clear in my voice. I like the sound of that - Simon Snow … _My_ _boyfriend._ Christ - How outstanding. 

He giggles, his nose scrunching up adorably. “You’re such a _sap_ ,” he goads, his voice light with laughter. I quirk my brow, unimpressed. “I actually can’t believe you. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, who would’ve thought?” He continues, lacing his hands together behind my neck. Mesmerised, I reach up, gripping his forearms. "I love it. I love it so, so much” he mumbles, before crashing our lips together into another bruising kiss. 

** Simon **

I flip us over suddenly, gripping his wrists and pressing him down into the mattress beneath me. 

"What on earth are you doing, you absolute barbarian?" He giggles, shaking his head. 

I lean down, peppering light kisses across his face and neck, punctuating every press of my lips to his skin with a mumbled "Mine." The word feels good in my mouth. _Mine_. Baz is all mine, and I've got him exactly where I want him. _Brilliant_. 

He starts fidgeting beneath me, trying to shake my grip from his wrists. "Stop it, you moron. It tickles," he laughs. 

I lean back, basking in the sight of him. His usually pale grey cheeks have flushed a delightful shade of pink, and he's beaming up at me, his eyes alive and sparkling. My heart squeezes within my chest - A happy warmth flooding my chest and spreading throughout my body. 

"Possessive much, Snow?" He teases, an amused smirk adorning his face. 

I raise my eyebrows, trying to copy his usual expression - Although I can’t seem to lift only one of them, so it doesn’t really work. “Don’t try and pretend like you don’t like it. You’re blushing,” I taunt, running a thumb across his right cheek. 

He squints up at me, casting me a murderous glare. But, he smiles then, the soft quirk of his lips betraying the ferocity of his look. It’s painfully endearing - Seeing him trying to maintain his hard exterior so desperately, even when I _already_ know that, deep down, he’s just as soft as anybody in love. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, you disaster,” he sighs, lifting himself up and claiming my lips once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I finally finished this fic! I hope everyone has enjoyed it. And, I just wanted to say a massive thank you for all the support, comments, and love.  
> Thank you ever so much for reading :)  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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